


Mine But to Do or Die

by Cori Lannam (corilannam)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Incompetent Wooing, Secret Crush, Secret Santa, feelings are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corilannam/pseuds/Cori%20Lannam
Summary: Merlin has loved Morgana for as long as he can remember. When he draws her name in the annual office Secret Santa exchange, it's the perfect opportunity to finally show her how he feels -- or at least Arthur thinks so.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AJsRandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJsRandom/gifts).



> Dear AJsRandom, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for the lovely prompts!

The old tasseled Christmas scarf had already tried to kill Merlin three times before he made it into the relative safety of Pendragon and Sons. In fairness to the scarf, the first time had actually been Arthur trying to kill him. Arthur had accused him of leaving the milk out, resulting in distinctly curdled cups of tea this morning.

In fairness to his flatmate, Merlin had done that. And the tea had been rather disgusting when Arthur made him drink it. Still, strangulation? A bit of an overreaction, if you asked him.

The second attempt on his life had come from the South Kensington turnstiles—not even the one Merlin was scanning himself through, but the next one over. Lucky that Arthur had been right behind him and managed to rip the tassels free before Merlin could do more than mildly choke himself. 

"If anyone's murdering you at Christmas," Arthur declared, offended to his core, "it is going to be me, not some tragic Tube accident."

"That's strangely comforting," Merlin wheezed, resituating his mangled scarf around his neck. Both he and his scarf looked a bit worse for wear, but they had been through worse over the years.

Arthur was walking ahead of him the third time, striding out of the revolving door into Pendragon and Sons like he already owned the place. Then Merlin let out a strangled bleat and Arthur pivoted around on his heel and strode back to free him from the door trying to drag him back into its jaws.

"Honestly, Merlin," Arthur grumbled as he extricated Merlin from the unhappy door. "It's the tassels. I told you, no one wears anything with tassels anymore."

"They've come back," Merlin protested, stroking what was left of the red and green yarn.

"They haven't. Morgana! Come tell Merlin, tassels have not come back."

"Arthur!" Merlin hissed, but it was too late. He had just enough time to ball up the end of the scarf in his fist to hide the damage before turning to face a curious Morgana who had appeared at Arthur's shoulder.

"Tassels, Merlin?" She raised her eyebrows, arch but kind, and he felt himself starting to blush.

"They've come back?" he repeated. His tongue felt like it had tripled in size under her gaze, drastically decreasing the possibility of him not embarrassing himself. Again.

But her expression softened as she reached out and coaxed his hand open. "I can't believe you still wear this old thing," she murmured, her thumb stroking over one of the surviving tassels. 

"Of course I do," he answered, and then, inexplicably, felt compelled to add, "It's Christmas."

Arthur's face hovered in his peripheral vision, first lighting up with hope, and then falling into despair. He turned around and started thumping his head against the office directory behind him. Merlin would have liked to join him. 'It's Christmas,' honestly, Merlin. 

"Speaking of Christmas." Morgana let go of the scarf and straightened up, snapping back into pure polished businesswoman. "Remember we're drawing names for the Secret Santa first thing this morning, and don't you dare try to get out of it, Arthur. This is Gwen's favorite thing, and she might not hurt you if you disappoint her, but I will."

"All right, all right." Arthur rolled his eyes, though they all knew he lived a significant part of his life working not to disappoint Gwen. "But I'm getting my tea first, or more people than just me are getting hurt."

"Fine, get your dirty plant water." Morgana rolled her eyes back at him as they made their way across the lobby to the lifts. "As long as you're in the boardroom by nine."

***

They were in the boardroom by nine. Merlin's scarf now had damp blotches of Tetley over the snowflake pattern, but he refused to let it off his neck. Arthur had been looking for an excuse to disappear that scarf for years.

"Good morning, everyone, and happy Christmas." Gwen beamed around the table and clutched the large glass bowl that normally held decorative blue pebbles outside Uther's office. Today it held dozens of slips of paper, one for every employee at Pendragon and Sons. 

Behind her, Morgana folded her arms and glared around the table until she elicited a ragged chorus of "good morning" and "happy Christmas" in return. 

"Right, I know we all have work to get to," Gwen continued, shaking the bowl. "So let's get to it. You all know the drill. One slip each, no peeking. Three gifts, delivered anonymously before the end of the business day on Christmas Eve."

Catrina, Uther's executive assistant, came up first to choose both for herself and as proxy for her boss. She chose without distinguishing which slip was which, since everyone knew both sets of gifts would get charged to Uther's corporate card. "Are we still doing the under twenty-five pounds thing?" she asked.

Gwen gave her a kind smile. "I don't really give a fuck this year, Cat. Just get it done."

Arthur went next, plucking out a slip and glancing at it before throwing himself back into his chair and smirking at Merlin. Morgana followed, and then it was Merlin's turn. Gwen gave him an encouraging smile as he approached. He fumbled his hand into the bowl and managed to crease a half dozen of the slips before pulling one out.

As he moved around Arthur's chair to retake his own, he felt the paper being pulled from between his fingers with a papery snap.

"Arthur," Gwen scolded. "It's called a Secret Santa for a reason."

Arthur threw her a wink, but he was already unfolding the paper. Merlin's bum had only brushed the seat when Arthur seized his arm and dragged him back up. "Thanks, Guinevere. We'll be off now, work to do, plans to make."

"Secret, Arthur!" Gwen called after them as Arthur steered Merlin out of the boardroom. "Don't make me come after you!"

That was hardly a disincentive for Arthur, Merlin muttered inside his head as he got dragged into his own office and shoved into a guest chair. "What the hell, Arthur?" he said out loud as Arthur perched on the edge of Merlin's desk with the same shit-eating grin that had been setting off alarm bells since Merlin was six years old. 

"This, Merlin?" Arthur held up the twin slips of paper over his head like a football trophy. "This is destiny."

"Destiny."

"Indeed. For you, my young friend, can hide no longer. Today is the day you will win your woman. Today is the day you become a man." He handed Merlin one of the slips of paper, and when Merlin opened it, a cold thrill shot deep through his bones.

 _Morgana Pendragon,_ it said in Gwen's tidy script. 

Merlin swallowed hard and glanced up at Arthur. His friend's gaze felt surprisingly gentle. "It's just a gift exchange, Arthur. Don't make so much of it."

"And this is why we're still flatmates instead of proper brothers." Arthur gave Merlin's cheek a fond poke. Then he leaned back and clapped his hands. "But lucky for you, 'Merlin Emrys' was the name I drew. And this will be my gift to you: I am going to help you successfully woo my sister."

Merlin kept staring up at him. Arthur stared back, and then shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"I imagine that was a lot less creepy in your head," Merlin finally offered.

"Yes, quite. Get out, Merlin. I have a battle to plan."

"It's my office!"

***

"The thing you need to remember, Merlin, is that Morgana is an expensive woman."

Merlin was leaned halfway across their kitchen table, methodically picking the water chestnuts out of Arthur's take away container. He dug his chopsticks under a mass of noodles, hunting. Surely there must be another one in here somewhere.

He had just settled for stealing some broccoli instead when Arthur's words caught up with him. "She's not a hooker," he mumbled around a mouthful of brown sauce.

"No, you're missing the point. And ew." Arthur's nose scrunched up and his mouth twisted in a grimace. "Why was that the first place your mind went?"

"You're the one giving your sister a price point."

"The point, Merlin, is that she is a woman used to the finest things in life. You have worn the same tie to work for the last five years."

Slowly Merlin sat back in his chair and stared down at his empty chopsticks. He was not an expensive person. He had only ever met Arthur and Morgana because his family was so poor that he had been eligible for a full scholarship to the exclusive boarding school Arthur attended. He only lived in a nice flat in Kensington now because Arthur had dragged Merlin with him after university and had no concept of rent payments. 

Arthur kicked him.

"Hey," he said gently. "You know Morgana doesn't give a damn what you wear. The important thing is to show that you know and appreciate her as a woman of exquisite taste."

"Right. But how am I supposed to do that?"

"You do make quite a good living these days, you know." Arthur stood up and flicked his chopsticks against Merlin's cheek as he passed. "But I think I have the perfect solution for your dilemma."

Despite a lifelong record of complete failure when it came to Arthur and plans, Merlin jumped up and followed, relieved that at least one of them had thought of something. While he had not quite bought into the idea of getting Morgana to fall in love with him through an anonymous gift—if it were that easy, he would have done it already—he at least did not want to botch the job too horribly. 

He found Arthur in his bedroom, rummaging around his dresser. “Arthur, I’m not giving her one of your watches. I know they're expensive, but I think she'd catch on."

"How you underestimate me. Aha!" Arthur's hand whipped into the air, trailed by a cloud of yellow silk. "You remember Viviane, don't you?"

"No."

"Yes, you do. Friday, a fortnight past. Or was she Saturday?"

Merlin snapped his fingers. "Wait. She was the one who drank the last of the milk, and then wanted me to launder her clothes."

"See, unforgettable." Arthur waved the silk in front of Merlin's face. "What was not unforgettable was this scarf, which she left behind after you threw her out."

"You want me to give Viviane's scarf to Morgana?"

"It's perfect. It's very expensive, trust me, but it doesn't need to cost your cheap arse a single penny." Arthur waved the scarf closer to Merlin's nose. "Get a whiff of that. It even smells expensive."

A strong floral scent wafted into Merlin's nostrils. He was not sure what expensive smelled like, but he trusted Arthur to know. "If it's so expensive, won't she want it back? Shouldn't you just text her to come pick it up?"

Arthur gave a tiny shudder. "That will be a cold day in hell."

"All right." Merlin returned a tiny shrug. "Let's wrap it."

***

To say that Merlin was skulking in the break room would be a gross exaggeration, in Merlin’s opinion. Words like “creeper” and “pathetic” were completely out of line, thank you, Arthur. Sneaking his first Secret Santa gift into Morgana's office had been stressful work, and he needed time to recover.

Merlin finished jabbing out another text to that effect before dropping his phone on the table and taking a passive aggressive sip of his third tea. And then, by complete coincidence, Morgana happened to prowl in, coffee cup in hand, glare focused on the espresso maker.

"Morgana!" Merlin exclaimed. "Fancy meeting you here."

She startled a little, but then relaxed and smiled. "Good morning, Merlin. Are you hiding from Arthur again?"

"No?" He did not hide from Arthur. Sometimes he just needed a little break from—"So! Have you gotten anything from your Secret Santa yet?"

Her smile flattened and her eyes narrowed, and she veered away from the espresso machine to lean over the table into Merlin's personal space. It was not as nice as he had thought it might be.

"I should have known as soon as I saw you in here," she said, and Merlin's heart skipped a panicked beat. "You tell your dear flatmate that whatever game he's playing, I'm not playing this time."

"Wha--?" Merlin snapped his gaping jaw shut with an effort. "Arthur is your Secret Santa? But how would you even know?"

"Who else would have given me a used scarf?" Morgana's lip curled in a sneer that was still a little bit of a turn-on, even knowing he was the true target of her unwitting ire. "No doubt from one of his one-night stands. It still reeked of floozy." 

"Wow." Merlin pushed himself to his feet slowly, trying to look as small and non-threatening as possible. He offered a shaky smile. "I'm sure your next gift will be better? Whoever your Santa really is?"

Her sneer finished its natural evolution into a smile of pure ice, which was even more of a turn-on than before. "I doubt it."

"I'm really sure it will," he called over his shoulder as he fled, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

 _Morgana more expensive than we thought,_ he texted on his way to Arthur's office.

By the time he appeared in the doorway, he already had Arthur's answer: _well shit._

***

"Right, so clearly you made a small misjudgment on the last gift, Merlin, but never fear. All is not lost."

Merlin flung another spoonful of peppermint stick ice cream across the living room. He loved peppermint stick ice cream, but it was worth it to watch Arthur manfully ignore it as it splatted onto his shoulder and dripped down onto his chest. "Really. I made a misjudgment? Me?"

Arthur gave a nod so gracious it was like he had summoned the spirits of the full line of English nobility to which he was heir. "I think the primary mistake was starting with the lavish gift, thus implying that material goods are the key to her heart."

"I disagree. I think the primary mistake was giving her a clothing item you tore off a woman that you're too afraid to see again even long enough to give her scarf back."

"Poetry. That's the obvious way to fix this."

That startled Merlin enough that the next spoonful of ice cream went into his own mouth on autopilot. "That's... actually not a horrible idea. Morgana loves Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I could pop down to Waterstones, get her a nice volume."

Arthur was already shaking his head before Merlin got past 'Browning.' "No, no, no. Poetry must come from your heart if you want it to reach hers. That's not something you can just buy, Merlin."

Surprisingly, that made a little bit of sense. "But I've never written poetry. I'm not sure there's any poetry actually in my heart at all."

"Nonsense, of course there is." Arthur grabbed a legal pad and plopped down on the couch. "And if not, that's why I have the finest classical education available in the United Kingdom."

"I have the exact same education as you," Merlin muttered, but he settled down to look over Arthur's dairy-sodden shoulder. He could not afford to turn down the help.

***

Poetry was not in his heart. Nor, as it turned out, had there been much in either of their educations.

"Oh, my God," he heard Gwen squeal just before he turned down the corridor towards his office. "Did you read this bit?"

"Of course I read that bit." Elena's giggles ricocheted off the walls and into the squirming pit of Merlin's guts. "I highlighted that bit to read to Mum and Dad over the phone tonight. They will die laughing, I swear."

"Wait, wait, I found it," Mithian interrupted. "Look, I told you he stole a whole verse from the Charge of the Light Brigade."

A pause, and then the loudest howls of laughter Merlin had ever heard in his life. He turned towards the corridor wall, rested his forehead against it, and closed his eyes.

"Morgana," he heard Gwen say solemnly. "He has made a mockery of the exchange. I want you to make him regret he ever set foot in that boardroom."

"Oh, don't worry," Morgana replied. "I'm going to make him regret he ever set foot on this earth."

Merlin turned and walked back the way he had come, then continued out to the lifts, down to the lobby, and out the front door, abandoning his jacket and satchel as a loss. His eyes stung and his cheeks burned all the way home – just from the wind. Just from the wind.

***

"Well, there's good news and bad news." Arthur kicked the door shut behind him and walked over to where Merlin lay face down on the sofa. A second later, Merlin felt his jacket land on his back, followed by the impact of his satchel in the same spot. "Which do you want first?"

"Neither, to be honest," Merlin wheezed, shoving his satchel onto the floor and sitting up.

"The bad news is that Morgana posted your poem—"

"My poem?"

"—our poem to Facebook," Arthur said. "The good news is that she only tagged me, not you."

"Terrific." 

Arthur sat down next to him, still scrolling through his phone. "Ah, now she's posted it to the company intranet. And to her Linked In account."

"I can never go back to work," Merlin moaned into a cushion. "Not ever."

"Don't be dramatic. She's still only tagging me. She has no idea you had anything to do with it. Oh, now she's tweeting it out, line by line."

"She'll know by the end of the week."

"She doesn't need to." A gentle hand pulled the cushion away from Merlin's face until Arthur's big blue eyes loomed in his vision. "Merlin, I'm the one who fucked everything up for you. Let me take the hit on this, give you a clean slate."

For a moment it was tempting to just accept. Then Merlin shook his head. "No. I fucked it up. And how can I be worthy of Morgana if I'm a coward?"

"In fairness, I've always known that nobody will ever be worthy of Morgana."

Merlin huffed a soft laugh. "Then why do you keep encouraging me?"

"Because you, you I can keep an eye on." Arthur pointed with two fingers from his eyes to Merlin's, smiling when he made Merlin laugh again. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Merlin's love for Morgana, his constant companion since boyhood, swirled through his stomach and his head. It made him feel sick and buoyant, weak and strong at the same time.

"I've known you were my brother ever since I met you," Arthur said abruptly into the silence. "It's always been your destiny—or maybe your doom—to be part of our family."

Merlin ducked his head, unable to help the smile crinkling his face. "I suppose if Morgana won't have me, you could always adopt me."

"I'll do what I have to do, Merlin." Arthur paused for a thoughtful moment. "Do I get to marry your mum? Because she's still a—"

"So help me, Arthur, if you say the word MILF—"

After they scuffled for Hunith Emrys' honor, they settled back on the sofa, hair mussed and happier. Arthur reached over and patted Merlin's leg. "My final gift to you: I'm not helping you with anything else. Just be your idiotic self. That's what Morgana has always liked."

"Yeah," Merlin said softly. "I think I got this from here."

***

In no way did Merlin have this.

He was sitting in Morgana's office in one of her guest chairs. It was Christmas Eve, early enough in the morning that the light filtering through her blinds was still pale and grey. His old tasseled scarf was wrapped around his neck, and his fingers fidgeted with one of the knots. 

Although his mind teemed with restless anxiety, his heart was strangely calm. Morgana would be here soon, he would offer his final gift, and then things would happen as they would. 

Minutes ticked by, too slow and too fast, until at last the firm click of Morgana's heels in the corridor broke through the hush of the quiet office. She always came in early—the first to arrive and the last to leave. Since the day Uther had acknowledged her birthright by adding an 's' to the end of Pendragon and Son, she had fought fang and claw to prove her worth.

She never had anything to prove to Merlin.

The door opened, then paused as Morgana realized that her desk lamp was on. "Merlin?" she said a moment later. "Is that you?"

He turned in the chair and offered her a small smile. "Hi. Sorry to ambush you like this."

"Don't be ridiculous." She closed the door behind her and shrugged out of her coat. "You know I'm always happy to see you. But why so early? Is something wrong?"

"Just a little bit wrong, I hope. But I'd like to fix it." Merlin took a deep breath. "It's about your Secret Santa."

Morgana sighed as she hung up her coat and started to come around the desk to her chair. "Merlin, your loyalty is one of the things I admire most about you, but if you've come to get Arthur out of trouble yet again—"

"It wasn't Arthur. It was me." He clenched his hands over his knees as she stopped with a look of shock. "I'm your Secret Santa."

She regained her composure after only a second. Head tilted curiously, she came to sit on the edge of her desk closest to him. "Explain."

"There's really only one thing to explain: I'm in love with you." There. The words were out and could not be taken back. He let his breath out with them in a relieved gust. "I've been in love with you for so long, I couldn't even tell you when I started."

Morgana just looked at him, lips slightly parted, a tiny frown creasing her brow. So Merlin went on.

"I gave you the scarf because you deserve everything beautiful, and I didn't know how to find the right thing myself. I gave you the poem because you deserve beautiful words, too, and I seriously underestimated how hard it is to write poetry."

"Merlin." She shook her head, the tiniest movement. Her face was shadowed in the dim light so that he could not quite tell whether the curve of her lips was a smile.

He pulled in one last deep breath. "So here I am. Because I don't have anything left to offer you except, well. Me." Merlin spread his hands helplessly. "I'm not much. Probably you got more entertainment out of the poetry. But I love you, and if you'll have me, I'm yours."

Slowly, her hands reached out to smooth the old scarf around his neck. "I gave you this when we were sixteen."

"I remember." He smiled up at her. "It was the best present I've ever had."

"It was horrid." She laughed, and her hands lingered on his shoulders. "It's the only thing I ever made myself, and I wanted you to have it, even though it was horrid. Not because you deserved something horrid, but because I wanted to give you something real."

His smile broadened, a tiny speck of hope beginning to grow. "It's still my favorite scarf."

"Oh, I know. Every year, I'm stunned when I see it again." She laughed again, this time sounding a little choked. "You don't remember how long you've loved me, Merlin? I don't know, but I don't think it's longer than I've loved you. I've just been waiting for you to be ready."

"I'm sorry it took so long," he said. And then her hands tightened on the scarf, drawing him up as she leaned down. Her lips were soft, sweet with balm and gloss, and Merlin had to reach for her, draw her down into his arms. "I love you."

Her arms twined around his neck as they kept exchanging the sentiment between their lips. Her weight in his lap kept him from floating away on his own happiness. 

"Tell Arthur I still know he's responsible for that poem," she murmured, later, nose pressed to his cheek. "And I'm still going to ruin him for it."

"Right, that's fair," Merlin agreed and kissed her again.


End file.
